Letters
by elusively today
Summary: They were polar opposites, from different worlds, different universes. But worlds will collide, after all. /one-shot/


Another year, another Hunger Games. Another day to get ready for the new tribute.

The 62nd Hunger Games, to be exact.

Avox Girl #129 washed her face and braided her auburn hair, her dexterous fingers weaving the thick locks behind her neck. The rope of hair left most of her throat bare, sending a shiver up her spine.

She washed her hands, staring at the plain dress she had been given to wear. The Avox decided it was nice enough.

Finally, the girl took a deep breath and stepped outside the bathroom.

"Good enough," the gruff voice of Ludwig Malsin said, without even a glance at her. "Now, your tribute." He turned on the television. "That's Cohin Amaox, District Two male. You serve him, do whatever he wants you to do. The tribute _always _comes first.

Watch his Reaping. Inspect him. See if you can figure him out. I'll be back in an hour to bring you to him."

Ludwig left, leaving the girl behind, intently watching the screen. He always gives her a short introduction; she doesn't care anymore.

_"And now for District Two's male tribute!"_

_Solwun Jolie walked to the large, ornately decorated crystal basin. Her fingers dipped into the slips of paper, her exoticly manicured nails scraping against the gold-rimmed parchment. Slowly, she picked one delicate sheet and read it._

_"Cohin Amaox._

_Are there any volunteers?"_

_No one raised a hand._

_The youth walked up the carpet to where Solwun waited._

_He was handsome. No word could be said against that. Sandy blonde hair pushed to the side with a pair of sparkling hazel eyes underneath. His arms were thick with muscle, and he stood taller than most of the males. He smiled, a glint of teeth between his curled lips._

_"How old are you, my lucky lad?"_

_"Sixteen." There was that cocky grin again._

Girl #129 watched it over and over, the TV set on replay.

Every time his appearance gave her shiver after shiver as she had felt in the bathroom.

Yet this time it was not the cold. It was anticipation.

...oOo...

Cohin tapped his fingers on the glass of the train.

He'd been sitting in this uncomfortable, but fashionable chair for too long.

Solwun asked him question after question, and he replied with a short curt answer.

All of a sudden, she asked, "Do you think you'll survive?"

Cohin froze for a second.

A full minute passed before he regained composure and smiled, saying, "Definitely."

His voice dripped with self-assurance he didn't feel.

_I am a Career. I have been training my entire life for this moment. I will bring glory and power to my family's name. **I will.**_

...oOo...

"Welcome, Cohin Amaox."

Cohin seated himself in a large velvet chair, the fabric greeting him.

"As is customary, you shall now meet your fellow tribute."

Cohin groaned. The female was a silly, brainless thing, too weak to even swing a dagger. That was all child's play to him. He had been steering clear of Petra whenever he could. But she was impossible to escape from.

"Hi Cohin!"

Cohin did not reply.

"Oh my gosh, I'm like, so hyped we're paired together! Like, we'd totally be a great team, you'd be all the brawn, and since I'm all smart and stuff, I could tell you what to do, omg perfection!" she squealed, making Cohin flare up more every second.

"Like omg, you're really strong even though you're sooooo not really smarty-pants and like, I'm a prodigy so totes yes!"

"Go away, Petra."

"Gosh, you're so mean Cohin."

"Just leave me alone."

"Like, no."

"Seriously."

Petra stuck to her spot.

Cohin pushed himself up and shoved her out the door. She yelped as she felt her body being scraped against the door frame,but Cohin couldn't care less. Petra shouted one last remark that he never heard before tumblng out the room.

"Idiot."

...oOo...

Cohin needed to talk to someone. He needed comfort, an ease to his frustration. The tribute was desperate for someone. It wasn't something he normally did, but he wasn't normally this frustrated.

No one was in the room.

Except for that Avox Girl.

"Come over here," he gestured at her, then at a chair besides him, requesting her presence.

She nodded her head. _Yes._

The girl walked over and stood next to him.

"Sit."

She sat.

"What's your name?"

The Avox shook her head. _No. _She had never had a name, not when she had been taken from her rebel parents and not now.

She didn't even know how to read and write.

Talking was impossible for her.

"Do you have a name?"

_No._

"Open your mouth."

She obliged.

And there was her mouth, red lips arching above and dipping down to reveal a set of neat ivories and no tongue. There was only half an inch of severred flesh.

Cohin shuddered, despising the fact that he, and all the people in District Two, were allowed to have wonderful clothes and houses, good jobs and education, while, here, in the Capitol, they weren't even allowed a tongue.

This was the Capitol's justice.

"Let me show you."

He grabbed her right hand, his calloused, strong fingers grasping her small, bony ones. Cohin traced three lines into her hand. Although her skin tingled at the touch, the Avox Girl stood still. When he finished, he looked up, his hazel eyes staring into her brown ones.

"This is letter A."

...oOo...

Cohin had taught her the entire alphabet and some simple phrases in half a week.

She was a fast learner, and he appreciated that.

The time he used teaching her wasted the time he could be training, but Cohin didn't mind, not the slightest bit.

He didn't know why.

...oOo...

"You need a name."

The Avox was confused. _What?_

The four letters she traced into his hand were questioning, but her eyes revealed slight excitement.

"A name," he repeated, this time more forcefully. "I'm tired of calling you Avox girl, like you're some fucking animal. You need a name."

He stops to think for a while, and she's silent. There's no use arguing with Cohin after he makes up his mind. Plus, a _name. _It's a pleasant idea, really.

"Averly." Cohin snaps his fingers.

The one word is short, abrupt, but she likes the sound of it.

Averly.

_Averly._

If only she had a tongue to feel the long A, or the roll of the V.

But she's content to just hear the word.

_Thank you._

This time he traces back. _It's what friends do._

Friends.

They were friends.

It was the first time he ever called them friends.

...oOo...

Her face is stinging.

A red handprint stains her pale skin, and it's hot, a little swollen. Averly pours water on it, but it just stings more, and the shape is barely paler than it was before.

But it makes sense. Why had she dared to become so friendly with a Career? Why did she feel brave enough to sit by his chair, or trace letters onto his hand? Why had she?

It makes sense Petra would hit her, and she knows, from now on she can't be his friend anymore.

She goes to stand by his fireplace, hoping he won't see the mark.

Cohin walks in and the first thing he sees is the mark.

"Who hit you?!" His voice thunders with rage, and his eyes are angry. He shakes her, her frail shoulders swinging, and for once, her eyes are angry.

She pushes him away and fiercely grabs his hand, tracing into it as hot tears run down her cheeks.

_No one._

His voice is softer now.

"Someone must have. Tell me."

She can't tell him, they can't be friends, she can't tell on Petra, she can't be angry, she can't touch him, she can't.

So many can'ts.

He can't be hugging her right now.

Then why is he?

...oOo...

How does he fall in love with her in less than a week?

He's a Career, dammit.

...oOo...

fin.


End file.
